If You Find Me
by Mizu-Tenshi
Summary: England is captured and tortured by an unknown agency. America's rescue team comes too late and now has to deal with an insane England as they try to figure out who set this up and how to bring England back to himself. AmericaxEngland
1. Chapter 1

Another fic that I'm slowly moving from my livejournal to this account. This was written a long time ago for the kink meme. The first chapter is quite graphic but the rating will drop.

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**If you find me - Chapter 01**

XX

It was hard to tell whether he really was in pain. Arthur was sure that he was - that blood was his, wasn't it? – but it seemed as if his whole body had gone numb. It was strange; as if he were floating, and it was an unpleasant feeling. No matter how hard he tried to concentrate, it was as if someone had stuffed his brain with cotton wool.

He lifted his head, testing the ropes around his wrists. They were still as tight as ever and his arms were aching from hours suspended above his head.

A door opened. Footsteps. Arthur tried to see through the haze of his own clouded mind and the blood dripping down this face. A group of blurry shadows approached him; there were four, maybe five of them. His vision kept splitting too often for him to be sure. The shadows approached. He could hear the sound of heavy boots against hollow wood. A rough hand cupped his chin, tilting his face upwards.

"What? He's still conscious!" mocking laughter came above him.

"No way! His eyes might be open, but look at him! He's totally out of it!"

Their voices sounded so far away. As if they were coming from below the ocean...

"That's no fun!"

Where was he? What had he been doing again?

"Here, cut the ropes. Let's have some fun."

Before Arthur could gather any coherent thoughts, the rope keeping him hanging was slashed and he fell painfully to the ground, the hardness of the uneven wood biting into his knees. For a second, he remembered what pain felt like.

Though his wrists still bound, he managed to lower his arms at last and tried to curl into a ball until an invasive pair of hands pulled him away, pushing him down. He wanted to scream but his voce had flown away at some point, the dark shadows grew a little more distinct. He could see faces, clothes, and cruel smiles of the people leering down at him, staring down at him from where they stood, their shadows engulfing him.

The man who had wrenched open his legs leaned forward, whispering with delight; "So, can I go first?"

XX

Alfred was impatient. How long did it take that bastard Francis to find a simple location? He was working with Ludwig and Alfred's own intelligence agency so it should not be so hard, right? He paced up and down the empty conference hall, trying to hold back from punching everything in sight. Damn it, where was that fucking place?

He thought the age of pirates was long gone; something left to be told in the stories of Arthur's delinquent days. Apparently, he had been wrong. Apparently, in this day and age, pirates had armed security and guns.

By the time the door finally opened, he had been at the point of smashing a chair through the meeting board. Ludwig entered, mopping his brow, he looked exhausted but Alfred had no time to offer his sympathies.

"Where is he?"

XX

Those filthy hands were probably leaving dirt marks on his already bloody body as they pushed him between them with less care than if he were a piece of meat. He had no idea where his clothes went; they were probably in shreds by now, but he was at that moment only half-aware of his nakedness. Half of his mind had deserted him long ago and the rest of it was threatening to go as well.

The next man in the circle took Arthur's limp body, sucking his neck hard enough to leave a mark.

"There, I claimed Coventry!" he laughed harshly and lowered his pants, slamming into Arthur's body with vicious force. "How does it feel to be fucked by a human?"

"Idiot. He can't hear you."

They were wrong there. Arthur could hear them. Barely.

There was no point to the rope around his wrists, Arthur thought. He could not move even if he wanted to. All the while he could feel them inside him, shoving hardened cocks, the necks of wine bottles, the tips of guns, and all manner of things up him, fucking him over and passing him to the next person for their games.

While they positioned him like a doll to be fucked over tables, against the walls, on the hard and dirty floor, he lay, his mind swimming numbly, staring at the ceiling with glazed eyes.

XX

It was nothing more than a filthy, run-down manor house, which had been out of use of years. Alfred practically ran for the front door, ignoring Francis' cries of 'Wait, you stupid idiot!' and Kiku's attempts to hold him back.

As if they had time for a strategy! As if they had the luxury to sit around drawing maps or the area and dividing into task forces! He was a hero and a hero did not wait in the face of danger! Besides, it was _Arthur_. Arthur needed him.

XX

"What's going on?"

Arthur felt a little of his awareness come back when the person, who had previous been rather enthusiastically forcing the neck of a wine bottle up him, suddenly drew out. He heard incoherent shouts and the sound of footsteps. What _was_ going on?

Whatever. He had no more care. The numbness had worn off and his whole body was now aching. Whatever. He sighed. Whatever. He just wanted to sleep.

XX

They broke in to the manor house rather successfully. Despite the fact that Alfred had tripped security in his mad dash for the front door, despite the fact that Francis could not aim a gun to save his life, they had already captured most of its occupants and were swiftly making their way to the back of the manor.

Ludwig emerged from the right wing, wiping the dust off of his gloved hands. "That's all of them I think," he sighed.

"Then Arthur is - "

"Don't jump the gun, _mon ami_, he will be here somewhere," Francis laid a hand on his shoulder.

Alfred batted him away. All this wasted time was making him irritable. He wanted to beat the crap out of these so called pirates – he wanted to snort at that title. He remembered the stories Francis told hm of Arthur's days on the high seas. They were nothing like that. – but the urge to find Arthur first was quickly overriding every sense in his body.

Without waiting, he turned on his heel and ran through the manor.

"_Mon Dieu_!" he heard Francis swear as he pursued him. Alfred raced further ahead, his eyes widening upon the sight of a set of crooked double doors.

Without slowing his pace, he barrelled into them, crying; "Arthur? Hey, Arthur? You in here?"

Francis' footsteps came to a sudden halt behind him. Alfred was not concentrating on Francis though; he was more occupied with what lay in front of him.

Arthur lay naked, covered in blood and cum, piss, alcohol, dirt and all manner of disgusting things. It was a mess, it was horrifying, it – it –

"A – Arthur?" Words failed. Alfred soon found himself stepping forward tentatively, swallowing around the hard lump which had suddenly formed in his throat. At first, he was so afraid that the nation was dead that he dared not breathe. Those eyes were open but dull and unseeing and, as Alfred slowly bent down to pick him up, Arthur's head rolled uselessly to a side.

Alfred's entire body was shaking. Oh dear God, what had happened here? A trembling hand pushed back dirty, sweat-stained strands of sandy hair. Arthur's blood seeped into his clothes but a wave of relief more palpable than Alfred imagined washed over him when he realised his heart was slowly but surely beating in his chest.

However, as soon as relief came, it was replaced by a crashing tide of anger. He was going to fucking kill those men! Who cared what his boss said? He'd kick Ludwig in the nuts if he tried to stop him too! He was going to rip apart their stupid limbs and feed their dicks to the dogs!

His grip on Arthur tightened. Francis said nothing when he carried him out of the room with him, his face striking an oddly solemn picture. He did not attempt to stop the American. Maybe he had enough sense to wait for the storm to calm.

XX

....Monochrome.

That was what Alfred thought every time he looked at Arthur's sleeping face. Arthur, who had been cleaned and clothed in white, lain silently between white sheets in a white room with white curtains and white tiled floors, was like a tentative sketch on an artist's canvas. The sun made his hair shine gold – the only colour apart from Alfred himself in this depressingly white room. He wanted to see a little green too.

Francis had come and gone a few hours earlier, bringing lilies – also white, the idiot – for Arthur to fail to appreciate. Feliciano, accompanied by Ludwig, brought a fruit basket but realised that the only ones eating would be the guests and took it away, deflated. Alfred knew that Kiku was off somewhere making paper cranes, as if that would help anything. Only Alfred stayed the full three days since they had rescued Arthur, staying by his side while he slept.

This was going to kill him. He had never been a patient person and this wait was going to surely bring about his early death. He arranged the lilies, drew and closed the curtains, made laps around the room; anything to keep him occupied while he prayed and waited.

The door opened as he sat by Arthur's bedside. Alfred looked up expectantly, meeting Ludwig's grim expression.

"Have you calmed down now?" he asked sombrely.

Alfred did not reply. He met Ludwig eye for eye, matching gazes of equal solemnity meeting each other across the room.

Ludwig sighed and opened the door wider. "If you want you can come with me but please don't do anything reckless."

Wordlessly, Alfred rose and followed him out of the door, sparing one last glance behind him at Arthur's prone figure.

XX

The man Alfred could only assume was the leader of the ring of pirates they had captured sat tied to a chair, dripping wet and bruised. From the looks of things, they were feeding him only enough to keep him alive.

It was too soft, Alfred thought. There were bruises where there should have been cuts instead. There were not enough lines under the man's eyes, not enough desperation, not enough suffering.

Ludwig took a seat on the opposite chair, a single table separating captor and captive. Alfred positioned himself behind Ludwig, clenching his fists.

"So, are you ready to talk now? Who told you about this?" he asked sternly.

The man laughed. "It was just an experiment. It's not like you're human!"

"Answer the question!" Ludwig barked.

"No, wait," Alfred cut through. "What's this? What's he talking about?"

"Oh are you one of them too?" the man laughed before Ludwig could open his mouth to reply. "It was just an experiment. I heard that when a country goes through economic crisis or outbreaks of disease it affects you, so does that work the other way? For example, if I cut you, could I harm the country's society by doing that? If I capture one of you, would that be the same as having captured the country? Could I control the country through one of you? I bet you've never tried it. I bet you don't even know yourself. Don't you want to - "

"That's enough!" Ludwig jumped to his feet, slamming his palms against the table, but the man continued, almost hysterical.

Alfred silently moved around the side of the table, closer to the ranting man.

"Hey! What happens if I fuck one of you? What happens when two of your kind fucks? Why don't you try it out and tell me?"

Alfred's fist buried itself against the side of the man's face, sending both him and the chair he was tied to sprawling across the floor.

"Alfred!" Ludwig leapt forward, pulling him back before he did anymore harm to their captive.

"Y – You," Alfred seethed. "You...just for that? Just for your stupid curiosity you went and did something like that?!" He made a wild rush for the man, ready to kick his guts in and smash his face like a pumpkin but Ludwig held fast, dragging him inch by inch away from the prisoner.

The man laughed. Despite the red mark on his cheek and the blood trickling down his face he laughed with the force of a hundred deranged hyenas. "Idiot. If what we think is true, wars won't be over physical land anymore, it'll be over who gets you!"

"Who – who gets us?!" Alfred raged. "You fucking son of a – We're not spoils of war! We feel the same things you do! Just because you thought you could get power this way you - "

"Alfred!" Ludwig yelled. "Alfred, calm down!"

"You! You did that to Arthur!?"

"Alfred!"

"You did all of that to him!?"

"Alfred, stop this!"

"You went and - and - !?"

"Alfred!"

Ludwig let go for just a second, spinning him around to face him he slapped a gloved hand straight across Alfred's cheek. "Snap out of it!" he cried, breathing heavily.

Alfred stared at him in silence.

"Mein Gott," he muttered under his breath, "this is going to give me a migraine."

"S...Sorry," Alfred muttered, refusing to look at the prisoner because he knew that would cause his anger to swell but also refusing to look at Ludwig out of guilt. He stared at the floor between his feet instead, mumbling excuses to leave the room and return to Arthur's side.

Ludwig promised that he would report anything new to the others. He had a bad feeling about this. They both did.

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XX


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I know a lot of you have questions but I hope to say that they will be answered in due time ^^

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**If you find me - **

**Chapter 02**

XX

"As far as I can assess, they're not certain about our identities. That man could only guess that Alfred and myself were nations but..." Ludwig trailed off, his hands clasped firmly together on top of the conference table.

Kiku and Francis sat opposite him in the meeting room, Feliciano on Ludwig's right, leaning over the side with awe as he watched Kiku discuss grave matters while playing with paper.

"But somehow Arthur's identity was leaked," Kiku supplied, still fiddling with his origami cranes. He had amassed about three hundred so far and was working another. Feliciano made a vague 'ooh!' sound. He had offered to help but had given up after the first three looked more like a squashed hippopotamus.

"And we can't be sure who else as well," Ludwig added, eying the brightly coloured cranes.

"Do you think we have a rat?" Francis asked. "The only ones who know about us are our bosses and their closest advisors."

"It's a possibility," he sighed. There were far too many possibilities and they were all making his head spin. "At the very least, we can assume that whoever it is won't tell anyone except their own gang about this. You wouldn't want anyone else going after the treasure you've discovered, but it would be best to prepare for the worst," he warned them.

"That man..." Kiku murmured. "Although he seemed to be the head out of those we captured he doesn't seem like the one pulling the strings."

"Interrogation is proceeding...smoothly," Ludwig replied stiffly. If by 'smoothly' he meant 'nowhere.'

"Ve, ve! And when we find out who discovered us?" Feliciano asked.

Ludwig cleared his throat awkwardly. He hated giving harsh answers to him. "We will have to take...disciplinary measures."

XX

Alfred sat alone watching Arthur sleep. Just how long did he plan to do that? It had already been three days – four if you counted the present day – and the more time passed the more it seemed as if he would stay in a permanent state of unconsciousness.

He waited, staring at the hypnotic whiteness of the wall and listening to the odd footsteps that passed. They had almost completely emptied his manor house of all other servants and maids and now the house seemed eerily quiet during the day.

Alfred was on the verge of falling asleep when he felt Arthur's hand twitch. Jolted awake, he stared at it in wonder. Had it just been his imagination? No...he was sure the hand had moved.

"Arthur?" he leaned forward, hardly daring to hope. "Hey, Arthur, can you hear me?"

The moment Arthur's eyes snapped open he sat bolt upright, causing Alfred to jump back, crying out in surprise. Arthur's hands flew over his mouth and he doubled over, making loud strangling sounds in his throat.

Panic rose and threatened to overwhelm him. Alfred looked around frantically for help but realised that he was the only other person in the room.

"H – Hang on a sec, I'll go get a bucket or something!" he rushed to the toilet as fast as he could, grabbing the first serviceable item he could find – a small wash basin – and dashed back, hoping Arthur had managed to keep it in.

Bursting through the doors, he practically threw the basin onto Arthur's lap, who immediately doubled over and threw up inside of it. Alfred watched with concern as he coughed and gasped for air.

"Here! Here, let it out," he whispered soothingly, rubbing Arthur's back with a hand as he made violent wretching noises. "There...that's it, don't hold back, get it all out of your system."

Arthur gripped the sides of the basin to steady himself, vomiting nothing but bile from his empty stomach.

"Are you done?" Alfred asked when he had stopped. He lifted his head just enough to meet his eyes. "Wait a minute and I'll bring you some water," he rushed back to the toilet, taking the basin with him.

Alfred emptied the contents of the basin down the toilet and flushed it, leaving the basin on top of the seat for Marianne, the only maid they had not kicked out of the manor house, to find and clean. He took a fresh basin from the bottom cabinet and filled a cup full with tap water, spilling a quarter of it in his hurry to return to the room.

"Here you go," he handed Arthur the water, holding the clean basin underneath him. Arthur took three gulps, swishing the water around his mouth before spitting it out into the basin. He drank the rest.

A wave of relief flooded him. Alfred sighed, almost collapsing onto his seat. After that brief panic attack, everything seemed to be okay. Arthur looked weary and thin but there no longer seemed to be any immediate danger.

"How are you feeling? Do you want anything?" he asked, laying aside the basin.

At first, Arthur did not respond. His mouth opened to speak but no sound came out. His lips moved, testing his voice until he could finally produce a word. "I..."

"What's wrong?" Alfred leaned forward, worried.

"I..." he struggled, swallowed, holding a hand close to his throat. "I'm...okay," he rasped.

Had this been any other time, any other day, Alfred would have snorted; '_You're obviously not, idiot,_' but one glance down at Arthur's open shirt, at the bandages wrapped around his chest and arms and the bruises far below made him a little more tactful.

"Ah...that's a relief! You gave us a real scare back there and you've been asleep for three days! For a second I thought that - " Alfred laughed so that he would not have to complete his sentence. "A – Anyway, how about some food? You think you can handle soup or something?" he asked, mentally kicking himself when he heard his voice tremble. He was too honest. He was terrible at feigning cheerfulness.

Arthur bowed his head, mumbling something almost inaudible.

"What was that?" Alfred leaned down.

"N...no. No soup," he muttered wearily.

Alfred straightened, unsure of what to say next. A frown creased his lips. It was not like Arthur to be so subdued but, as he told himself, he had only just woken up. He was still injured and probably drowsy too. He would be okay after he had recovered a bit and, hopefully, gotten something into his stomach.

"You're still tired. Get some rest. I'll stay here if you want," he whispered, placing a hand over Arthur's he could not help but notice that he flinched as their skin came into contact, just a little bit, before relaxing.

Alfred was not sure if he should make a joke about it. He reached his other hand up to ruffle that sandy hair, hesitated, withdrew his hand, but then bit his lip and decided to take the plunge. Thankfully, when his fingers touched the first strands of hair, Arthur did not protest.

Yet, even so, Alfred could not help suppress the misgivings he felt inside of him.

XX

"You're not doing it right, aru! Let me have him. Let's see how long he lasts under Chinese water torture!"

"By all means. I'm getting tired of dealing with such a stubborn customer."

Alfred paused to listen to voices echoing down the hall. Yao had flown in from China a day ago and it felt as if the pace of things had stepped up a little. They were still trying to trace the source of the possible information leak and the interrogation had spread to the lower ranks of pirates, although it soon became clear that they did not know much. Despite this though, their main suspect was remaining as stubbornly tight-lipped as usual.

Maybe it would be better if he just...

"Master Jones!"

Alfred turned around to see the maid rushing towards him, bearing a heavy tray laden with steaming soup and thick bread. "Marianne? Is something wrong?"

She stopped before him, gasping for breath. "I'm worried about our patient, sir. He hasn't eaten anything since he woke up and he still refuses food. It's like he's trying to starve himself to death!"

Something inside of him wrapped its fingers around his heart and squeezed.

"Give me that. I'll deal with it," he said softly, taking the tray from Marianne's arms.

"Master Jones!" she halted him as he made his steady way towards Arthur's room. "I'm worried that...well I suppose you'll see for yourself."

Though he did not like the way she shook her head, Alfred simply nodded sombrely, and continued his way towards the white room.

There was nothing unusual about the room at first. Arthur was now sitting up, his head turned to stare out of the window, which had been left partially open. There was nothing odd about the way he watched the curtains flutter, and yet Alfred found something painfully sad about it. He stepped inside, using his body to shut the door behind him and carefully approached the bed.

Arthur kept his gaze fixed on the curtains, not noticing, or perhaps not acknowledging, Alfred's presence. What made him look like that? Like a bird in a cage that was too tight.

Alfred shook his head of his troubling thoughts. "Arthur!" he spoke loudly and clearly, announcing his presence. "What's this about you not eating? Don't try to tell me that you're not hungry, you must be starving!"

He placed the tray on his bedside table, pushing it forward as if tempting a stray cat to eat.

Arthur spared a glance at the tray, then one at Alfred, his expression remaining thoroughly neutral.

"I'm not hungry," he spoke in a monotone.

"Bullshit!" Alfred swore on impulse before correcting himself, keeping his anger in check. "Please eat something. You need to eat something," he gently begged, hoping that his concern would be enough to compel him to eat. Arthur was thin, he realised as he surveyed him. He had always been a little on the skinny side but never skeletal, which would be the way he would be going if he decided to keep on refusing food.

Arthur wrinkled his nose. The first expression Alfred had seen passed over his face; it was one of disgust.

"That woman brought that to me, didn't she? I don't want it. Not that disgusting food a human prepared," he said. For all his blatant displeasure, his tone still remained coldly monotonous.

"What?" Alfred stared. Surely he could not have heard that right.

"Get rid of her. I don't want to see a human."

Alfred smiled. This was a joke, right? There was no way a day would ever come when Arthur could speak so coldly. "Arthur what are you saying? You're a nation, you know? Yeah, people can get really annoying but you – _we_ – we live for our people."

His smile dropped when Arthur looked at him. No, this was not a joke. He was completely serious.

Alfred swallowed, trying to recover his voice. "If I get Francis – If _France_ makes you something, will you eat it?" he asked. Right now, the most important thing was to make sure that Arthur's body at least was healthy. "I'll go tell him to cook you something. Don't worry, there won't be any snails in it," he laughed uneasily

His exit could not have been any quicker and Arthur did not seem to mourn the loss of his company. He simply leaned against the pillows propped up behind him and stared through the window again.

Once out of the room Alfred finally let his shaky composure fall to pieces. He ran a hand through his hand as he wondered just how this had happened. He was at an utter loss as to what was going on or what would happen now.

"Master Jones, was he okay? I'm so scared that he'll end up starving!" He looked up to see Marianne's worried face peeking at him.

Alfred bit his lip. Marianne had no notion of who they really were and even if she had known he could not bring himself to tell her the truth; that the person she had been caring for while unconscious despised her.

"...No, don't worry, he was just being stubborn."

Marianne sighed and smiled. "That's a relief! Well then, Master, I have corridors to clean."

"Thanks for all your hard work," he whispered and waved at her as she went.

As soon as she was gone he punched the wall, ignoring the sharp sting of pain that raced down his knuckles. Even a hero needed to punch something every now and then lest they exploded with frustration. Therefore, Alfred buried his fist into the unsympathetic wall and was sorry for the pieces of plaster Marianne would have to sweep from the floor.

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Hmmmm, Arthur doesn't seem that insane right now, does he? Well his insanity is more of a quiet, unsettling kind....


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you everyone. I'm sorry if you're looking forward to seeing Russia, since he doesn't really make an appearance. This is actually a rather old fic of mine that was on the kink meme, which I decided to post here. Also, though the first chapter is quite graphic, the others are not so this gets an overall T rating. Thanks for reading and enjoy!

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**If you find me - Chapter 03**

XX

"Here, it's not poisoned, see?" Alfred took a sip of the soup Francis had prepared to prove his point.

Arthur sat pointedly still, only moving when it was absolutely necessary and, even then, only at bare minimum. There was no longer any life in his eyes, as if everything had been drained out of him the day he woke up in this bleak world. His colour was gone, evaporating into the whiteness of the walls. There was nothing left.

"I'm not hungry," he whispered.

Alfred tried not to look hurt. "Please eat it!" he scooped a spoonful of thick soup, pushing towards Arthur's mouth the way one would coax a baby to eat.

Reluctantly, he took the spoon from Alfred's grip, their fingers brushing ever so slightly, and swallowed a mouthful.

Alfred watched his slow, methodical way of eating. He did not savour the food, but ate it with the grim determination of a soldier given an order to march. If he was not there to watch over him, he doubted that Arthur would even bother to continue eating.

Marianne had been dismissed from caring for Arthur when he made it clear that he would not suffer her presence. It was painful to know that the only time he came alive was to hiss at her and flinch from her touch. Now Kiku took care of changing his bandages and bed sheets and Francis took over cooking duties. Alfred had to apologise profusely to her for it but she did not seem to mind.

Personally, Alfred would have done more for her but his thoughts were solely occupied with Arthur. His human-phobia extended to even his boss and countrymen. Who ever heard of a nation who hated his own people?

"S – So do you want to know what's going on right now? I imagine it must be boring to be cooped up here all the time. Don't worry, you'll recover soon," Alfred spoke for the sole purpose of filling up time and space with something, anything. Silence was too awful for him. He thought it might take away the rest of Arthur's personality if it could.

"Well, Ludwig's informed all the other countries and we're all on the alert now. Security has been tightened. We think there might be a rat amongst the circle of people who know. We're looking into that too," he said.

Arthur made no sign of hearing him.

Alfred straightened on his chair, trying not to fidget too much. Arthur always told him off for fidgeting during world meetings but now he seemed not even to notice. "Ah, don't worry. We'll sort this out soon enough; I am a hero after all!" he forced a laugh. Yes, he was a hero so he could fix this. He could do anything. He could even save Arthur, right?

Again, there was no reply but Arthur turned his head to the window again as though bored of listening to Alfred's words.

Alfred leaned forward, nudging Arthur's arm a little. "What do you think we should do?" he smiled, hoping this would at least engage him in conversation. He was tired of talking to walls.

He was tired, but heroes were not supposed to get tired. They could do anything. They could save Arthur. That was what Alfred wanted to do, was it not? He wanted to lean forward and press his lips against Arthur's ear and whisper; 'I'll save you.'

Only he did not. He could not move much whenever he was in the white room. If he did, he was afraid he would shatter something and then there really would be nothing left. Gathering his courage, he placed a hand on the bed and leaned forward, though not far enough to touch Arthur's face.

"Wh – What should_ I_ do?" he whispered.

There was no reply.

He leaned in further.

"Hey, Arthur...what should I do?"

Please tell me, he wanted to beg. Look at me. Please tell what I have to.

"Y – You're not asleep are you? Don't tell me I'm that boring!" he feigned laughter, reclining back into his chair. His shoulders slumped.

Finally, Arthur turned his head and looked at him. He was not sure whether he preferred to be gazed upon or not.

"Arthur..."

A sudden knock startled him. Francis poked his head around the side, the surprise at on his face was false; it was common knowledge that Alfred spent almost twenty-four hours a day in Arthur's company.

"Oh, you are here? Alfred, can we talk?" he asked, gesturing for him to follow.

Alfred rose. "I'll be right back," he assured Arthur, though his smile faltered when he thought that he would not really care either way. Gritting his teeth, he followed Francis out of the door, softly closing it behind him.

"What is it?" he asked as soon as they stepped into the hallway. The emptiness gave it a cold sheen and Alfred made a mental note to buy a rug or something to keep away the chill.

Francis unfolded his arms, sighing with exasperation. "Nothing, _mon ami,_ I just thought I would throw you a line," he said and left Alfred standing there in confusion.

Yet it was not really confusion that rooted him to the spot but realisation. If he stayed in that room for any longer, he was sure that he would be crushed by it.

XX

"We need to do something about Arthur."

Uneasy silence pervaded. In the meeting room, one could have heard a pin drop.

Yao was the first to speak up. "I've brought some specialists with me aru, but..."

"...They're human," Ludwig guessed and Yao nodded grimly. Alfred had explained Arthur's new temperament and there was not a snowflake's chance in hell he would endure the presence of a human let alone their 'help.'

"Can't you do anything?" Alfred stressed. He would have said that he was desperate except that he was a ridiculous optimist and even now he held onto the futile hope that things would somehow turn out alright.

Yao sighed.

XX

Alfred wondered if he was some sort of masochist for spending all his time with Arthur as he did. No matter how much it pained him, no matter how depressed he felt afterwards, he would always flutter back to the white room like a moth hopelessly attracted to a candle flame no matter how it singed his wings.

If there was anything positive to be reported amongst the lack of progress and the confusion, at least Arthur's wounds were healing nicely. With Kiku changing his bandages and Yao mixing medicines, he would soon be back into perfect shape. Physically, that was.

"So Matthew said he's flying here soon," Alfred tried to put some enthusiasm in his voice despite his utter conviction that Matthew would not be able to do a thing. He mentally reprimanded himself for such a thought. When did he become so paranoid?

Arthur's apathetic "Oh?" was more response than he had managed to wring out of him in days.

"Yeah, I'm sure you'll appreciate more intelligent conversation," he laughed lightly, hoping it did not sound too strained. "But that's not true, is it? Between me and Matt you like me more, come on, admit it!" he nudged Arthur, hoping to goad a better response from him.

However, Arthur refused to take the bait and remained silent. Not to be deterred, Alfred continued. He was not the type to give up so easily.

"You know, you always like to call me an ungrateful brat. I'm sorry about that. Sorry I didn't turn out better...but, you know, I did stick around for all those years despite all those disgusting scones of yours!"

There. A jab at Arthur's cooking always managed to touch a nerve, yet this time Arthur did not so much as flinch. Where was the furrowing of eyebrows, the indignant scowl that would cross his face, the flash of anger sparking in his eyes? At this point, Alfred would have been grateful if he called him an 'insufferable git' and whacked him over the head.

"Arthur," Alfred dared place a hand over his, hoping to awaken him with his touch. "Arthur...are you listening to me?"

When he was young, before he had sought independence, all he would have to do is get a little teary-eyed for Arthur to come rushing to him, sweeping him up into his arms. When he was older, he would move around noisily, doing everything in exaggeration so that it was impossible for Arthur to ignore.

This is something Alfred was not used to. He was gentle, he was obnoxious, he jabbed, he goaded, he pleaded and he begged but nothing could coax a lively response - or even a response at all - from Arthur.

"Arthur!" Alfred shook his arm. "Say something."

Arthur looked at him but his mouth would not move.

"Hey, say something. Call me an idiot like you always do. You can yell at me if you want. You can even get angry at me...Hey, come on..." he shook him, harder this time. "Tell me I'm stupid. Tell me I'm a brat! Tell me you hate me even! Just - " Alfred's voice faltered, threatening to break. He could not take this anymore. He flung his arms around Arthur's shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. "Just do something!" he cried.

"...Alfred." A slow response.

"Yes?" he asked, almost giddy with relief.

"You're crushing me. Let go."

Hope soared and came crashing down. Alfred could feel it shatter into a million pieces, each one a shard into his heart.

"S – Sorry," he reluctantly released him, returning to his chair.

"Alfred," Arthur pointed to his face.

It was not until then did he realise that his eyes were a little wet around the corners. He blinked in confusion and felt them rolling down his cheeks. "Ah!" he hastily rose his arm to wipe them away. "O – oh. I must have gotten a little worked up. Dust in my eye. Um...dammit, it's really gotten in there! Don't worry, it'll stop soon. It'll stop. It'll stop."

Alfred scrubbed his face and laughed, assuring Arthur that it was just a little dust. Not to worry, he would not go blind. It would stop soon.

Only it did not.

The door burst open while he was still trying to regain his composure. Alfred was almost sure that it was Francis here to 'rescue' him again but instead Kiku leaned against the door frame, panting heavily.

"Alfred, please come quickly, it's an emergency!" he cried.

"But - "

"It's an emergency!" he practically pushed him out of the door. Alfred had never seen him so flustered or so forceful. It was unlike the usually reserved Kiku to be so forward as to grab his hand, practically dragging him down the hallway.

"What's going on?" Alfred asked as soon as they reached the holding room. He knew that this was where they were keeping the prisoners for the moment.

Ludwig and Yao were already crowding around the entrance with Feliciano desperate trying to peek over their shoulders by hopping from one foot to the other and Francis leaning against the wall with a look of distaste. They turned when Alfred approached, giving him enough space to squeeze through as if to say; 'take a look for yourself.'

The captive was dead.

Alfred did not have to bend down to check the man's pulse to know that it was already too late. That once arrogant, stubborn man's face was twisted with fear, eyes open and glazed, blood running down his forehead.

Ludwig cleared his throat but before he could say something a piercing scream jolted them all from their positions.

"Ve, isn't that Marianne's voice?"

Something cold ran down Alfred's spine. The source of that scream had come from down the hallway and down the hallway there was only...

"Arthur!" He pushed Yao and Ludwig out of the way, dearly praying that his fears were irrational.

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XX


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry for the wait. Here's the next chapter.

* * *

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**If you find me - chapter 04**

XX

Arthur backed himself into a corner at a crouch, clutching his arm as the old wounds that had not yet healed began to bleed again. He gritted his teeth together, glaring coldly at the young woman who had invaded his room. The rumpled bed was all that separated them but even at that short distance Arthur hardly felt safe at the moment.

"You're awfully quick for someone who's injured," the woman smiled condescendingly, she held a dagger in her right hand and there was a gun – though still in its holster – at her hip. She wore a black dress suit – identical to that of the millions of office workers around the world – as though it were her armour, making her untouchable, superior.

"You wanted to catch me by surprise?" Arthur growled. He made a note to commit her face to memory – black hair and beauty spots and dark brown eyes that were too small and too far apart.

"I was hoping to go in and out without anyone noticing but now I fear they may have caught on after that useless pirate decided he couldn't die in silence," she reached for her gun. "Be a dear and don't make this difficult, okay?"

As soon as Arthur saw her fingers reach for the holster, he barrelled into the bedside table, knocking it onto its side. The vase shattered into large shards, throwing water and fresh flowers onto the floor. He grabbed a jagged piece of vase, not caring as it sliced into his fingers. Jumping back, he pressed his back against the wall and lifted the shard to his throat.

The woman faltered for just a second. "What do you think you're doing? You plan to take your whole country with you?" she laughed, though Arthur could sense her hesitation barely veiled by her bravado.

"It's just a bunch of humans anyway," he muttered. He had known that this would happen, that they would not leave him in peace. It had been foolish to take his time and rest; he would never be left in peace because those pirates were...

"You don't have the guts," the woman dared him. Was she one of them too?

The cold tip of the shard pricked his throat, drawing a small drop of blood. Did he dare do it? Wasn't this what he wanted? To die rather than fall into the hands of filthy humans who would use him and torture him and fuck him as they wished? Even now, thinking about how they had stripped him and passed him around like some fuck-toy, made him want to hurl.

He wondered what would happen if he was gone. The East Germans did not die when Prussia was no more so maybe, even if he did this, the people of England, though damaged, would live on without him, not that it really mattered to him anymore.

Arthur swallowed and pressed the shard to his throat.

"Mister Kirkland, you musn't!" Marianne – wasn't that the name of that stupid maid? They had been too caught up to notice her enter the room – screamed as she leapt for him, knocking the glass out of his hand. He hissed as their fingers brushed, withdrawing his hand as though he had been burnt. "W –What are you doing here?" he growled at her.

Marianne made no reply but gathered herself to her feet, using her body as a shield between Arthur and the woman.

The woman was not expecting an interruption but nevertheless took it all in her stride. In hindsight, perhaps this turn of events could prove advantageous for her. "Oh? Are you one of them too? What country are you?" she asked, amusement evident on her voice.

Though Marianne's face was a picture of confusion she did not falter. "Country?"

However, there was clearly no time to wait for an answer. They all heard the sound of pounding footsteps racing towards them. In that brief moment of distraction, the woman leaned over the bed, grabbing a fistful of Marianne's hair, throwing her out of the way. She vehemently pulled on it, eliciting another shrill scream.

"Damn it!" she cursed under her breath, aiming the gun squarely at Arthur's chest. "A bullet won't hurt a country too much, right?"

The door flung open. Marianne ripped herself out of the painful grasp as Arthur grabbed another broken piece of vase and the woman raised her gun, took aim...

"Don't shoot!"

...Fired.

Alfred and Yao were the first into the room but neither of them would make it in time. The sound of the bullet exploding from the nozzle rippled through the room, tearing into space, into time, the very fabric of reality.

"Arthur!" Alfred flung out a hand. Why couldn't he make it in time? If he really was a hero he could stop this. If he really was a hero...

"Mister Kirkland!" Marianne imposed herself between them, arms flung wide.

"Marianne!"

Blood coloured the walls. White and red like Arthur's flag. Marianne's face was a picture of pure shock, as if she had not comprehended that a bullet would hurt when she flung herself in its path. Her breast was crimson, the colour quickly spreading like a disease that would consume her, blood violently spurted from her mouth as she collapsed, spreading her red corruption across the once white floor.

The woman swore under her breath. Another bullet shattered the windows and she flung herself through without ceremony. Yao and Ludwig immediately gave chase while Kiku took Francis around the back in order to seal all exits, leaving only Feliciano and Alfred alone with Arthur and the body of Marianne.

A moment of absolute stillness reigned. It was that moment between the realms of conscious and unconsciousness when the mind is still trying to confirm whether it is still dreaming or not, when one feels disorientated and paralysed. It was as if someone had covered their eyes with their hands; teasingly whispering 'Guess who?' though no one was there; a cold surprise that festered in the gut and conquered the brain.

Arthur was the first to move, though only to slide down the wall into a shocked heap. Some of the blood had splattered onto his face so that he could feel its warmth trickling down his cheeks like tears and smell that disgusting, metallic scent smothering him.

"M – Marianne?" Feliciano smiled as he crouched beside her. He shook her gently, as one would to rouse someone from their sleep. "Ve ve, Marianne don't lie there all day! You're bleeding; shall I kiss it better for you? Marianne? M – Marianne, want me to kiss...kiss it...better...?"

He was crying. He tried not to show it, tried to smile despite himself but Feliciano's trembling hands betrayed his feelings. He made no sound, he did not sob out loud as he would when pleading for mercy, but the tears came down in steady silent streams.

"M – Marianne?" Alfred knew that she was already dead. Had she been a nation she might have survived. Had she been a nation... He looked at Arthur and crept towards him, reaching out a comforting hand. "Arthur, are you - "

"Don't touch me!" Arthur batted him away. The harshness of his voice made Alfred flinch. "Ha...haha..." shaky, almost deranged laughter bubbled from his throat. "Hahaha! Stupid human! She should have just let her take me! If she knew who I was she would have - "

The sound of Alfred's palm hitting the side of Arthur's cheek made even Feliciano look up in surprise. Alfred's enraged face was marred by tears. Why could he not do anything? He was the hero here! Why could he never do anything but watch?

"Don't talk as if you know everything!" he yelled, gripping Arthur's shoulders hard enough to make him wince. "Even if I told her what you were, it wouldn't have made a difference to her!"

Arthur quelled a little under the harshness of his gaze. "...W - Who cares?"

Alfred's grip slackened. Arthur was slipping back into apathy.

"...War, poverty, crime, who cares what humans want to do to each other? Who cares if they want to slaughter each other? They shouldn't get us involved."

"Arthur?"

"I've had enough." Arthur tilted his head back to rest against the wall, sighing loudly as if to expel his soul in one breath.

Alfred had no idea what to say. He tentatively reached out and tied to rub the blood from Arthur's face but it only ended up smearing into a grizzly red stain.

"You used to be really kind, you know?"

He could hold himself back no longer. Alfred flung his arms around Arthur's shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug. If his back could shield all the bad things from touching Arthur, he would have gladly stayed like that forever. Briefly, he wondered if he was some sort of fool for clinging on to hope even now, like a desperate beggar he grabbed at whatever gleams of light flashed before his eyes.

"Arthur, I'm not – I'm not going to let you - " he squeezed even tighter, hardly caring that Arthur was not hugging back or if Feliciano was looking at him, at how pathetic he had become. He was a hero and he would go to any lengths to save someone, to save Athur, even if – even if he had to become the villain in doing so. "I won' t let you go the way you're going. I'm not going to let you become like – like this!"

"They're not going to leave me alone," Arthur said; a cold statement of facts.

"We'll get them! Every last one of them!" he cried.

Arthur stiffened. Though Alfred was unable to see his face, he could sense the sudden shift in demeanour. "...Yes, I suppose we'll have to do that," Arthur whispered, lightly touching the small of Alfred's back.

XX

Despite tightening security, everyone was walking on eggshells the next morning. The remaining pirates had been transferred to a proper prison, leaving the manor even emptier. They held a funeral for Marianne. Alfred took it upon himself to notify her family, sending a bouquet of yellow roses with the condolence card.

That day, it did not even rain when they carried out the coffin. Marianne's parents wanted her buried in Maine where she had grown up but they held their own service for her anyway. Kiku gave her some of his cranes and Feliciano made a chain of daisies; Alfred could see how he trembled and clung onto Ludwig's arm as if everyone around him would disappear if he did not hold fast. Even Francis, who remained completely calm throughout the grim affair, indulged himself in a little more wine than usual as soon as the coffin was borne away.

Only Arthur remained missing from the ceremony. Yao could not say how much the event affected him but, although he was up and walking by now, he continued to hole himself up in the manor, living his life either in the white room or in the much unused study of Alfred's manor. His attitude remained cold and distant even to his fellow nations. He was never rude but always curt, giving no more than two or three word answers at best.

Alfred caught him sitting in the study, the lights set to a minimum, hunched over a thick tome of...something; the books in there were mostly for show and Alfred had no clue about the names of half the books in his own study.

Creeping in, he sidled towards Arthur who, as expected, paid him no mind.

"Hey Arthur! Want to...watch a movie or something?" he asked. It was a bad suggestion but he had no idea what else to say, he just wanted to do something, anything that would bring Arthur back to life even for just a second. He would even eat a million burnt scones for one, quick smile or a flustered blush.

However, Arthur paid his presence only the smallest amount of recognition, just enough to reply "...No thank you," before promptly forgetting about him until Alfred spoke again.

"Well, how about going outside for some fresh air?" he suggested.

"I'm fine," Arthur replied laconically, eyes rooted to the same page he had been reading for the last two hours.

"Come on, don't be so boring! Let's do something!" Alfred tugged at his sleeve impatiently. It was not that he thought what he had dubbed 'the Feliciano effect' would work but he had never tried to be so obstinately cheerful before and one should always try new approaches.

"London," Arthur muttered under his breath, snapping the book shut.

"Huh?"

Arthur frowned at him for being dense. "I want to go back to London. What happened to it after I was..." he trailed away. Neither of them really wished to recall those unpleasant memories.

"...Arthur!" Alfred breathed, hardly daring to believe what he was hearing. Arthur wanted to go back to London. That meant that he was worried. That meant that, surely, deep down he was still the same old Arthur! "That's great! It would be a good idea to move now that they know where we are. I'll talk to the others and make preparations immediately!" he cried enthusiastically.

"Thank you," Arthur gave him the tiniest of smiles.

There really was a God after all!

"N - no problem!" Alfred cried, grinning from ear to ear. Arthur was smiling, Arthur had thanked him! Just seeing that made him feel as though he could do anything, could probably walk on top of a rainbow; he was feeling so giddy with happiness.

Alfred was in such a rush to tell the news to the others that he failed to see that Arthur's smile was edged with malice.

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XX


	5. Chapter 5

XX

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**If you find me - Chapter 05**

XX

When Alfred brought up the subject of moving to England, they all agreed that it would be a good idea to relocate. Now that the enemy knew where they were, it was best to move as soon as possible and in England at least they could stay in one of Arthur's homes where he would probably feel more comfortable. It could be therapeutic, Yao admitted.

They had not gauged just what kind of impact Arthur's captivity and injuries had made on society. They all knew that England had been going through a bad period before hand but now it was going through a greater dip in economy, recent floods and snowstorms had battered the country and, worst of all, there had been a riot at the ports which had gotten out of control and the white cliffs of Dover had turned red for a few days.

When he saw the banners over London and the crowds of angry protesters being held back by police in riot gear, Alfred began to regret ever coming to the country. This was no place for Arthur to recover.

"Unemployment has risen to dangerous levels, aru," Yao answered his silent question. "And inflation is forever going up. They want the prime minister to step down. They say the government is incompetent, aru."

"I am thinking we shouldn't have come here perhaps," Ludwig murmured, glancing out of the tinted windows of the car.

"This is what Arthur wanted, right?" Alfred looked hopefully at Arthur, who made no reply.

XX

He was grateful when they reached Arthur's house in London. It was remote enough that, as long as he did not glance at the newspapers or turned on the television, Alfred could almost pretend that nothing had ever happened.

Arthur moved through the halls like a ghost, flitting from one room to another without an intent or purpose Alfred could gleam, which was why, when he noticed Arthur pulling on his coat a few days after their arrival, he was more than a little shocked.

"Arthur? Where are you going?" he asked, trying to conceal his worry. Since they had recovered him he had become nothing short of a recluse, a hikkikomori Kiku would have said, only Alfred was not sure if that was quite correct. Arthur pent himself up inside anyplace with four walls and would not step out.

"To Buckingham," he replied as if this were obvious.

"What? Why?"

Arthur's cool, hard gaze bore into the depths of his soul. It was as if he was telling him not to interfere. "I was missing for quite some time. I should report to the royal family," he explained. Surprisingly, it sounded quite reasonable.

Alfred was not sure whether to be happy that Arthur was going out and that he was going to see people, humans, or to be even more concerned that he would snap whilst outside. "That's good but shouldn't you talk to the prime minister first? He's the one who's technically in charge."

Arthur shook his head. "No, I'll go to the palace first."

"You sure like your royalty," Alfred laughed, "I'll come with you."

"No, I'll go alone," Arthur insisted.

"But - "

"I'll go alone," Arthur looked at him with what Alfred would not quite describe as a glare but was not exactly the most welcoming of looks either. He wanted to protest but Arthur had become such a loner these days, always so tetchy about keeping his own company, that Alfred found himself surrendering.

"Oh, that reminds me, Yao got a good look at that woman and Ludwig's tracking down her roots. It won't be too long before we get to the bottom of all of this!" he said, hoping to lighten Arthur's foul mood.

The news did not seem to excite Arthur as much as it did Alfred. Then again, nothing seemed to excite Arthur these days. Nothing could make him laugh or get angry; that smile he had given Alfred back in America had been a rare occasion.

"It's okay," he murmured, adjusting the collar of his coat. "Even if you don't do anything I'm sure it will sort itself out."

Alfred let him walk out of the door.

No sooner was he gone than he felt a sigh escape him. He should have been firmer, he reckoned, but he did not want to chase Arthur outside just to be handed another defeat.

"I'm too soft with him," he muttered disapprovingly just as Kiku joined him at the main door.

"Alfred, we're all meeting in the conference room."

"Coming," he sighed, his thoughts still on Arthur and scones and the first signs of real hope as he trailed towards the room.

What they had dubbed the conference room was just Arthur's dining room. It was large enough to hold about twenty guests, something which rarely occurred since the end of the Victorian era but was useful nonetheless in times such as this.

Kiku had laced the perimeter with insulated wires, setting up a dozen computer terminals and other funny looking screens as if the dining room were now the headquarters for an international hacking operation.

Alfred carefully stepped over the wires as he made his way to where the rest were leaning over one of the terminals. No doubt it was a health hazard, not that he could complain about the state of other people's rooms.

Ludwig looked at the empty spaces behind him, frowning. "Where's Arthur?"

"Ah, he went to report to the royal family!" Alfred replied enthusiastically, hoping to share some of his hope with the others.

"And you let him go alone?" Francis, who had not been taken in by the screen, sat at the other end of the table.

Alfred resented the critical look he was being given. It was not as if he was ever neglectful of Arthur and besides cooking meals, which he did for everyone, Francis had stayed at a respectful distance from Arthur. His previous attempts to insult him and thus coax out the old Arthur had been met with solid nothingness.

"It'll be okay, right? I mean, he decided to drive and there are guards all over the palace."

"...Yes, I'm sure it will be fine."

"So what's up?" Alfred asked, wilfully ignoring the traces of hesitation in Kiku's polite response.

As if suddenly reminded of why they were there, everyone turned back to the screen, "I managed to place a name to the face that Yao saw," Ludwig began to explain. He clicked once, bringing up a file with a photograph attached. "Look at this; she worked for MI6 and had a pretty good record until five months ago when she decided to resign. For 'personal and family reasons' it states. After that she practically dropped off of the face of the earth. There are no more records of her anywhere."

"So we can assume that was when she joined the pirates, but why? She didn't hold high enough a rank to be told about Arthur's secret during her work so how did she find out?" Kiku wondered.

"Perhaps she went sneaking through classified files."

"Maybe," Kiku conceded but looked unconvinced.

"Before that she was often summoned to the palace, aru. She was a good worker and received many honours for her work. She even met with the queen a few times. Someone there could have told her, aru," Yao tried to pin a reason on their mystery as Ludwig began scrolling through the file again.

"If someone there told her, why would they attack their own country? Surely they would 'experiment' with another nation. Assuming that they weren't working with another country's organisation or just a free-rover that is," he murmured, eyes fixed on lines upon lines of typeset in front of him.

They were all silent for a moment, pondering what this new-found information was trying to tell them. For Alfred himself, his thoughts were mixed with worries regarding Arthur's welfare. Maybe he really should have insisted on going with him...

"_Mon Dieu_!" Francis suddenly slapped a hand against his face, startling all of them out of their silence

"What?" Alfred asked, feeling his heart begin to race with the same anxiety he had felt when his home had been infiltrated.

"Whatever their motive is, _mon ami_, it's someone in a relatively high position of power pulling the strings_, non_?"

Alfred stared at him blankly.

Francis sighed in exasperation, wondering just how anyone could be so dense. "Arthur went to Buckingham! _Mon Dieu_, don't you know that place is crawling with high-flyers!"

XX

Getting past the hordes of protesters outside the gates had initially been a challenge but now that he was on palace grounds Arthur passed through with laughable ease. Everyone knew who he was. Or at least knew that he was important enough not to be delayed by security checks. They let him in easily, giving him access to the private areas without a word of protest.

On his way through the richly furnished halls, he managed to stop a maid, halting her amidst her cleaning duties.

"The queen is in, right? Tell him that Arthur Kirkland wishes to have an audience with her," he said, sparing no thought of being polite or smiling.

The maid hesitated. She had no idea who this man was but she had often seen him with many important officials. "Uh...I will inform Her Majesty," she curtsied and scurried off.

It was all so easy. So amazingly easily Arthur would have laughed but for the fact that his laughter had seemed stopped in his throat ever since his capture.

It took no time at all for the maid to come running back. There was a newfound obeisance in her manner as she bowed even lower. "Right this way please," she led him to the throne room.

Without the usual gaggle of people to fill up the space, the throne room seemed larger and colder than Arthur remembered. The maid left him alone in the middle of it, facing the queen who sat on the throne in black, idly turning a decorative sword over and over in her hands.

Footsteps made hollow echoes against the hard floor. As Arthur approached, she left the sword on her lap, resting her hands above it, one on top of the other.

"I was expecting you," she smiled, sitting erect.

"Your Highness," Arthur performed an extravagant sweeping bow in deference to her. He lifted his head to gauge her reaction and mockingly smirked to see her smiling politely.

"I heard about what happened. I trust you are unharmed."

"I have recovered enough," he shrugged, straightening.

The queen clapped gloved hands together, the points of her fingers meeting in an arch that reminded him of an upside down victory. "That is truly wonderful to hear! You really are amazing, dear Arthur!"

The sound of that old, tender nickname made him wince. Fortunately, he did not think his reaction was visible enough for the queen to notice.

"Not at all. Your Highness is far more wonderful," he bowed again. Years of watching Spenser fishing for Queen Elizabeth's patronage had taught him how to give the most flattering lip service.

"And I am so glad that you favour old traditions. Queen Elizabeth was a wise woman to use pirates to do the dirty work," he lifted himself up, no longer bothering to hide his contempt. "But Queen Elizabeth was far more wonderful than you, old hag!"

Arthur's expression of thinly veiled courtesy turned into disdain. For all the lack of emotion he had shown since his capture, his eyes now came alive with rage.

The queen, he was disappointed to see, remained unprovoked where others would have taken to the hills already.

"You are angry," she swallowed up his insults in a wave of calmness, "but I too am doing what is best. Can you blame me, Arthur dear?"

Arthur opened his mouth but did not know what to say. It had hurt, it hurt even remembering it now, that one of the few people he trusted, one he never thought would turn on him had deemed him disposable. It was the ultimate kick in the teeth. The humiliation was unbearable but the painful ache it had caused was far more potent than the burn of shame.

He struggled to hold back his anger and surprise. This was not the reply he had been expecting, he was almost resentful of her for not saying what he had thought she would. "But I am - "

"These are sad times," she interrupted him.

"Is your Majesty only a fair-weather friend?" he spat bitterly.

"The crown and the country go together hand in hand."

"Then why - "

"Do you remember – I suppose you do not," the queen cut through him again. Arthur's hands curled into trembling fists. "It was a few years ago and you have more than a few centuries worth of memories. However, maybe I can jolt something by reminding you about that time we met again in Hertfordshire."

"I remember," he replied automatically. His memory was not so bad that he could not remember what happened a few measly years ago.

"Then do you also remember what I asked you?"

"You asked me many things, Your Highness," he replied curtly, his patience was wearing him and he had no idea what one thing had to do with the other.

The queen laughed derisively. Arthur noted with a wry smile that she still politely covered her mouth with her hand even when she was trying to be insulting. "I asked you, between the prime minister and I, if we both gave you contradictory orders who would you obey?" she reminded him.

"I said the prime minister. Even though you're royalty the prime minister is technically my boss. You are..."

"Just a figure head," she finished for him. "The crown and country go together hand in hand but you; it was you Arthur who betrayed me first."

Arthur was not sure whether to burst into a fit of hysterics or throw something at her in anger. "That's..." he struggled between the two, "I didn't do any such thing! You expect me to – to believe that that was punishment for this so called 'betrayal'? Are you that petty?" he cried, unable to wrap his head around her way of thinking.

"Punishment?" she laughed. "Of course not! However, it opened my eyes. I knew, finally, that between the two powers, you would not choose my side."

Her eyes swept over the room, empty but for the two of them. Tilting her head to the side, she seemed pensive, almost wistful. Her hair was beginning to turn silver and her face wrinkle with age.

It was like a stab to the heart. Arthur remembered buying silk and velvet to drape over the throne in a mock re-enactment of the old Tudors, remembered childish shrieks of 'off with her head!' filling the room as he watched her, once a child, running through the halls. He crushed those memories and let them drift away on the air.

"There could be a revolt," she murmured. Arthur remembered the hoards of protesters blocking his way in.

"Before that happens, it is my wish to start afresh, to be able to lead this nation, to succeed where this current government has failed. I want a restored and complete monarchy," her smile turned bitter. "If you are not with me, dear Arthur, you are against me."

A new wave of anger surged far enough to overcome foolish sentimentality. "I – I _am_ the country, old hag!" he snarled with renewed strength. "If you are not with me, you are against me? I should say the same to you! A queen going against her country, what a sick joke!"

"You are misinterpreting things," she replied calmly. "You, who have all that bitter bloodstained past, must also be wiped clean if we are to start anew. We should give rise to a new England, a better one. Besides, the fate of a human nation should belong in human hands, would you not agree?"

Arthur wished nothing more than to be gone. This talk was beginning to make him feel nauseous but he had to settle things here.

"...No, I don't. The way you think is all wrong. You want to restore power to the monarchy? You just want to become a dictator!" he shouted accusations that pelted off of the queen's impregnable composure. "I've seen a thousand revolutions so I know, even though they want to destroy what has come before and start completely anew there will always be the past."

"That is why you are not needed, you who carry all that unnecessary baggage. Please do not take this personally, dear Arthur, but this is for the country we both love. Let us destroy it and rebuild it anew. I am tired of watching the government trip over the trails of their own corruption. If it were me, if I were in charge..."

The first traces of hesitation flickered across her face, but before Arthur could seize it she had smothered the feeling.

"Arthur, don't you love this country?"

"No," he tried to laugh but was afraid he would hurl instead. He was feeling dizzy. "Not anymore," he said coldly.

He had to do this now, while he still had possession of his senses. He wanted to do this knowing exactly what it meant, not lost to the storms of wild passion. Reaching into his coat he drew a long kitchen knife. He never had to go through security checks otherwise he would surely have been caught in possession of such a large thing.

The queen smiled, not the least intimidated by the sudden appearance of the knife. She picked up the sword from her lap, casually reminding him that she too was armed.

Arthur grinned in retaliation, giving the blade a few test swings. It whistled as it sliced through the air.

"I chopped off Charles' head when he got out of hand. I can do the same to you."

"And look what happened after you did. You really do not learn from the past, do you, dear Arthur?"

Arthur grin widened. His heart was pounding. Yes, this was what he wanted, wasn't it? Yes, to see that glorious red again, just as he had on that day that stupid maid had died. This was what he wanted. He would put those stupid, arrogant humans in their place. He would show them that he – he and no one else – was their country.

He stepped forward, slowly at first, gaining momentum as he raced up the small steps toward the throne. The queen stood up sharply, drawing the blade in defence but it was in vain. Stupid human, his mind crowed victoriously. The stupid human thought she could go against him!

_I do not want children who cannot play nice,_ Ivan had told him when he asked about Bloody Sunday. As crazy as he took him for then, he had had the right idea. He smiled at that thought, smiled as wide as he could.

Arthur swung the blade high above his head, plunging it down with such force that the air wailed.

He laughed with glee, already seeing the blood that would flow out freely. Wasn't red the colour of kings?

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	6. Chapter 6

XX

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**If you find me - Chapter 06**

XX

Alfred hated security checks. He had wasted a fair amount of time trying to stop those beefeaters or porkeaters or whatever they were from manhandling him. When he finally managed to locate Arthur, he raced into the throne room, throwing the door wide open.

"Arthur!"

He saw the knife gleaming, he saw the blade descending, he saw the crying, half-crazed smile on Arthur's face, and he threw himself forward.

"St – Stop it! Please, stop it, Arthur!" he cried with as much strength as he could muster, flinging out his hand as if to catch him.

The knife's descent froze in mid-air. Hands trembled. Alfred paused, barely daring to hope that his words had finally reached him.

Slowly, Arthur turned his head to face him, the rest of his body remaining paralysed. "...A – Alfred?" he whispered, barely believing what he was seeing. The knife fell from his hands, clattering besides the queen's head where she had stumbled and fallen.

Sensing an opening, Alfred stepped closer, opening his arms wide as he implored him. "Don't do this! You'll only regret it if you do!"

"Alfred?" Arthur's full attention was finally on him. Were those tears he could see? Arthur shook his head hopelessly. "You don't underst - "

Alfred halted, frozen. He thought he could see the world falling apart in front of his eyes. Arthur was no longer looking at him. He was looking at his queen. More specifically, he was looking at the blade of the sword his queen held in her hand, the blade which was buried into his side.

Arthur slowly straightened, taking one, two, three steps backward. The long blade piercing him followed. He placed trembling hands on the hilt, winced, and pulled it out, letting his blood run down the blade and onto the floor.

Alfred was sure that he needed to breathe but he could not. How could he think about breathing when the world was spinning and Arthur was – Arthur had been –

His nails pierced the palms of his hands, drawing blood, but that was nothing compared to the red stain slowly spreading across Arthur's shirt or the blood trickling down his mouth. Arthur looked at him and, for the first time in an eternity, he gazed upon him gently. Smiling as if to say; 'I told you so' the sword clattered on the floor as he collapsed.

Whatever was preventing Alfred from moving released him now. He rushed forward as Arthur fell, catching him before he hit the ground. The smell of blood invaded his nose, making his head swim.

"A – Arthur?" Alfred had enough sense not to jolt him. They sank to the ground together, Alfred holding on to Arthur's body even as he felt the warmness of blood seeping into his own shirt as well.

He would have cried, except that he was in too much shock to do so. His trembling hands held Arthur close, burying his face in Arthur's hair despite the overwhelming stench of blood.

Arthur's eyes cracked open. He face was already losing its colour but he managed to gather enough strength to focus on the queen's distant figure.

"Why?" his voice cracked under the strain of speaking. "I...served you. I went to war for you. I...bled for you...so...so..." His voice gave out half-way. Arthur reached out trembling, blood-stained hands as if to grasp her but Alfred blocked them with his own, fingers curling together.

The queen still remained on the floor, trembling at the sight of blood. She had not fully realised the implications of her goal. She had hoped that she would not be there to see Arthur's undoing or, if she was, that somehow his blood would look different; not red, not like a human's blood.

"Did you think that this was easy for me?" she almost shrieked but deciding that he voice would attract unwanted attention, quivered instead. "What else could I do? They took away all the monarchy's power, all its real power! I didn't want to sit and watch anymore so I – so I wanted to change everything, start anew!"

Alfred could stand this no longer. Although he had not heard half of what had been exchanged he could not care less. What mattered was Arthur.

"We're leaving!" he announced. Scooping him up, he was hit by an unwelcome sense of de-ja-vu. This had been just like the day he had found Arthur kidnapped by the pirates. Fear wormed its way into his gut. Just how would this affect Arthur's mind now?

"No! You won't go anywhere!" the queen's voice echoed, picking up Arthur's fallen knife.

The look Alfred gave her was so ferocious she gasped and dropped the knife in shock, backing away. He wished someone else could see her now; a dishevelled, feeble woman.

"Do you really want to risk hurting me? I think you know what implications that will have on your foreign relations," he said icily and offered her a smile that could compete with even Ivan's.

"You should think about the implications of your actions as well! You are interfering in something that is none of your business!" The queen cried, managing to somewhat pull back her composure

Alfred gave her an cold glare. "My boss would not object to this. I am simply aiding an ally."

He was not sure if the queen really cared about foreign powers at this point or is she was just too stunned to react but, for all the trouble it often caused him, when no one stopped him despite the incriminating picture he painted, he was never so thankful that he was a superpower.

XX

He almost collapsed under pressure the moment they made it back. It took a moment to stick in that they had really made it to safe ground. He would have laughed when he saw everyone's pale, shocked faces except even he could not see anything funny about this situation.

Alfred stayed by Arthur's bed side ever since he returned with him, only leaving to shower and change his blood-stained clothes. When Yao announced that Arthur's life was not in danger but he had lost a lot of blood and would probably need a transfusion, Alfred had stayed by Arthur's side for that too. He was not going to make past mistakes; he would watch Arthur like a hawk this time.

"Arthur," he murmured, watching him as he slept. He looked completely innocent like this, at peace with the world, as he did before everything went wrong.

Alfred dug his nails into the palms of his hands. "Don't you dare make that face at me; I'm angry at you!" he fiercely whispered at Arthur's sleeping face. "You knew who did this to you, you knew all this time and yet you didn't say a word to me or to anyone else! I could have helped you! I could have saved you! I could have...I could have done something to..."

It was no use thinking about what could have been. What was done was done and Alfred knew that there was no going back. No use crying over spilt milk; wasn't that what Arthur used to say? He had to look ahead, to the future.

Yet when he tried Alfred could no longer see the light he had been holding on to.

XX

They tightened security to such a degree that Arthur's home seemed more like a fortress. Alfred did not care whether Arthur would complain about the wires or the drilled holes in the wall or the mounted cameras on the trees, he would let Kiku turn the whole house into a giant robot if that was what was needed to keep intruders out.

Ludwig brought some personnel from Germany to guard the perimeter in case the queen decided to send that woman or any others to do her dirty work, though Francis pointed out that her hands would be full with the rising tension and protests.

Alfred had no idea what was happening to the country, neither did he care but for the fact that it would probably affect Arthur in some way. He stayed with him, watching over Arthur as he slept and tried not to think too much lest he do something that he would regret.

He was still sleeping mostly. At times, Arthur would wake up, though not fully conscious, and look at him with weary, unfocused eyes that would threaten to break Alfred's heart. He knew that Arthur was just delirious and needed time to recover but those eyes never failed to pierce right through him.

When Arthur was finally well enough to sit up and eat without help, he never said anything. He was perfectly docile, perfectly obedient, but completely silent. Alfred knew that he should not complain when Arthur was steadily healing but often he had to rush out of the room for no explicable reason to stop himself from breaking down in front of him.

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	7. Chapter 7

XX

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**If you find me**

**Chapter 07**

XX

"What's going on?" Alfred asked, finding Francis in one of the guest rooms leaning out of the open window to stare at something. Francis spared him a glance then bid him come closer.

Alfred stepped besides him. He took off his glasses, polished them and put the back on, squinting to see.

It was a flag, the Union Jack to be precise, but for the lion of England plastered across it in bright gold and, faintly but distinctly, the chant of 'God Save the Queen' was clashing with roars of 'democracy', 'freedom' and 'fight fascism'.

"What's that?" he asked, slightly unnerved. It had not been more than a week since his return from Buckingham but even he could not lock himself away from the unrest he felt growing on the air.

Francis breathed an audible sigh. "You do not watch the news, do you?"

"It's depressing," Alfred pouted. Besides, he did not want to risk the chance of Arthur overhearing something that might set him off again.

"That," Francis gestured to the flag flying above the rooftops, "is bad news. Or good, depending on what happens next."

Alfred wanted to ask just how it could possibly be good. "Close the window," he ordered. "Draw all the curtains! I don't want Arthur to see th - "

They both started at the sound of something crashing just next door. They shared a brief look. Francis shook his head in response.

"Too late, mon ami."

XX

When he rushed back to the room, Alfred almost had a heart attack.

"Arthur? Dammit Arthur, what are you doing?" he rushed into the room as a decorative plate soared and smashed into pieces above his head.

Arthur was wrecking everything and anything in the room, smashing it to pieces in blind rage.

"I hate it! I hate it!" he cried, destroying everything, shattering teacups, photo frames, crystal glasses; everything that he once found precious shattered to the floor.

Alfred did not think that he even knew what he was breaking anymore, too blinded by tears to see, too numbed by pain to think.

"What did I do that was so wrong?" he continued to cry. "Didn't I serve them? Didn't I try hard enough? Even in the financial crisis, I suffered too! I was sick too! Didn't I try to help? Didn't I suffer as well?"

Alfred tried to approach him without being bludgeoned by the metal bat. Just where had he found that anyway?

"You did! You hurt more than anyone else!" he cried. Noticing the bandages around Arthur's side beginning to turn red again, he rushed forward. He would risk potential brain damage if he could just stop Arthur from his blind rampage. "Arthur your wound is bleeding again! Stop!"

To Alfred's surprise he lowered the bat, panting heavily. "Then – Then why did – why did..?" he gasped, struggling to breathe and speak.

"Arthur, stop!" Alfred grabbed the bat out of his hand, flinging it far to the ground. He wrapped his arms around him, refusing to let go as they sank to the floor. "It's enough...it's enough, you've done everything you could..." he murmured, stroking the back of Arthur's head.

Arthur's body shook with tears. He still had enough obstinate pride to try and keep them suppressed but the effort only made his body quiver more violently. "What did I do wrong?" he managed to ask; a question wrenched from between gritted teeth.

"You didn't do anything wrong! They're the ones who are at fault."

Arthur pounded his fists against Alfred's chest. "Damn it! Damn them! Damn them! Even I! Even I..."

Alfred took the beating without protest. He simply held him tighter. His shirt had once been stained with Arthur's blood and now it was drenched with his tears. "Shhh, it's okay. Don't worry, it's okay," he continued to murmur over the sound of Arthur's suppressed sobs.

He was not sure how long they stayed like that; the two of them holding on to each other like survivors after a storm. Alfred was not even sure at what point Arthur's fatigue caught up with him and sent him to sleep again.

Those bandages would have to be changed again, he thought to himself. Returning Arthur to his bed, he took it upon himself to deal with the wound rather than call Kiku or Yao. He did not know why, but for some reason he felt that calling someone from the outside would have destroyed what fragile balance they had managed to maintain here.

Alfred gently stroked Arthur's hair, brushing a few odd strands away from his eyes. Why did he only look at peace now? Leaning over, he pushed the hair out of the way and placed a kiss on Arthur's forehead.

Outside, the streets roared with angry cries but inside, enclosed within the protective walls of Arthur's room, it was completely silent.

XX

If Arthur's breakdown had been good for anything, it seemed to have released his tongue along with all those pent up emotions. Alfred even entertained the vaguest notion of hope when Arthur began to talk as he had once done. Although things were not quite the same, at least he was not as cold was he was before.

However, if Arthur was calming down, the atmosphere in the city was growing more violent. The tenseness threatened to snap. It came to a point when Alfred could not walk outside without running into a horde of protesters.

The peaceful protests would turn into riots and the police would be called out with tear gas and riot gear. Alfred only barely managed to escape getting caught up in one when he went out shopping for supplies.

"What's going on?" Arthur was curious enough to break his silence when Alfred came diving into his room, cursing and wiping off bits of banana peel from his coat.

Alfred turned wrenched his gaze away from him. Ever since he was little, he was never able to lie with a straight face, especially not to Arthur of all people, who had an uncanny sixth sense for these sorts of things.

"Arthur, no matter what, it's going to be okay!" He wished he did not have to yell that at the floor.

"What's going on?"

"It's crazy! They came out publicly about reforming the government and returning to a monarchy. My boss is against it because it's not democratic but you'll be surprised how much support it has both nationally and internationally. People are desperate. Right now, public opinion in the UK is divided between the Royalists in favour of the change and the Civils who are standing by the government."

As flustered and unable to think properly as he was, Alfred's blood ran cold when he heard Arthur say the two words he had never thought he would hear.

"Civil war."

"What?" Alfred turned to him, horrified.

"I have a feeling that things will probably amount to a civil war," Arthur repeated, strangle calm.

Alfred stuttered trying to find the right words to express his fear. "No...why?" he demanded, angrily punching the nearest wall. Arthur flinched at the moment of contact, turning away from the sight of bleeding knuckles.

"This is...too much! This is too much! Can't they see how much this is tormenting you?" Alfred hissed, shaking out the pain trilling up his hand.

A bitter smile tugged at Arthur's lips. "Humans are selfish, didn't I say so?"

Alfred turned to him and bit his lip. He did not want Arthur returning to his hatred and disgust of humans, not now when it seemed to have simmered. There was no need to awaken that sleeping lion.

"Even if they are you still can't turn your back on your nation! Even Russia loves his own people!" he cried, gripping Arthur's shoulders though he could not run anyway. "When you were betrayed, it hurt, didn't it? You still care for people deep down though! If you didn't why would it hurt when you confronted the queen? Why did you ask her why? Why did you plead with her if you really didn't care?"

Arthur glared at him. A small bubble of anger rose to his throat. What did Alfred know about anything? How could he lecture him as if he had any idea what he went through and yet why did it hurt to hear those words?

"Stop it," he said curtly, staring at Alfred in warning, though Alfred was never one to read the signs properly.

"You hesitated," he continued obliviously. "You didn't kill her because you still cared for her! Because you were worried what would happen to your people if their queen suddenly died!"

"Shut up," he hissed, hoping a fiercer tone would halt Alfred's tongue.

"It hurt, didn't it? Thinking about what would happen to your people. It hurt didn't it?"

"Shut up."

"That was why you were crying last night, because you still cared!"

"Shut up!" Arthur finally cried, flinging an arm at him to push him away. Only Alfred could make him snap the way he did. Only Alfred and his idiocy. "God dammit, you insensitive git, can't you shut up for a minute?"

Alfred jumped back to avoid the blow and hovered around the bed trying not to look worried. "Arthur..." he breathed, only barely stopping himself from reaching out again lest he be cruelly shoved back again.

Arthur expelled a loud sigh and fell against the pillows, sinking deeper. He closed his eyes and listened to the silence buzzing around his head. He was so tired. He wanted to sleep and yet he could feel his bones shaking with the premonition of war.

When would there finally be an end to this? He was tired of dealing with humans yet as a nation he would never be able to escape them. Arthur was not sure who he hated more; himself or the stupid, selfish humans.

Or maybe the one he hated the most was Alfred who made him feel this way, who snatched away all his exits and told him things he did not want to hear; idiotic, preposterous things like not hating humans.

"Civil war, yes, I'm on the outbreak of civil war. I can feel it," he whispered without opening his eyes. "You know what happens to us when a country goes through civil war."

Alfred bit his lip. Yes, he had been through enough civil wars to know what it felt like. Although the memories were hazy, he had also seen various others go through the same thing; schizophrenia, multiple personality disorder, sleeplessness, self-harm; the results were never pretty.

He clenched his fists. To hell with what anyone else thought, he would not let this happen to Arthur no matter what!

Alfred lunged at Arthur, almost knocking him flat. Arthur's eyes flew open in surprise as Alfred wrapped his arms around him, holding on as tightly as he could without crushing him.

"I won't let that happen! War won't help anything, just make the situation worse! I'll use all the influence I have to resolve things properly and peacefully!"

"You can't do everything," Arthur found himself trying to pacify him.

"Like hell I can!" he raged. "I'm the goddamn hero here! If I say I can do it, I can - "

All that was needed to silence him was Arthur's hand on his head, running through his hair.

"It's okay," he whispered. He began to chuckle. Alfred did not like the sound. It was bitter and self-depreciating. He did not realised how badly Arthur was shaking until he loosened his grip to look at him properly.

"You're right. Dammit, why are you always right?" Arthur muttered, trying to hide his face with his hands. "I've tried so hard to just stop caring as well. I hate them but I can't stop worrying about them. Damn ungrateful brats, why can't they have more consideration for my feelings?"

"Maybe because about ninety-nine percent of them don't even know you exist," Alfred joked, though it was a lame one at best, accompanied by a wobbly, half-hearted smile.

Arthur managed to smile a little, or tried to at least though the tears marred it. "I really hate them," he confessed with a shake of his head that buried itself in Alfred's chest. "I really don't want anything more to do with them. This war is ridiculous...will they find happiness this way?"

"Arthur, I told you that I won't let this happen!" Alfred hissed fiercely. He was ready to fight tooth and nail to stop this.

He did not want a war, not one like this. Arthur had suffered enough. There was no need for him to go through this kind of pain as well. It was all too cruel and Alfred was a hero; it was his job to stop cruel things from happening.

"It's okay. Suffering with your nation is part of the job description," Arthur almost seemed ready to laugh.

"Arthur..." Alfred shook his head, denying reality if reality insisted on letting the situation slip further. "Arthur, I don't want to see this happen to you."

Hands through his hair soothed him. "Then don't look, idiot."

He felt the beginning of tears threatening to fall. Alfred punched the mattress as they slipped down his cheek. If he could wipe away the whole world and leave only them he felt that he really would do so.

"No! I love you, you dumbass! That's why I - "

Alfred's voice choked up at that moment, though it was probably fortunate for him. They stared at each other in shock, neither believing what had been said. Slowly, Arthur shrugged and shook his head.

"Honestly, you suck at confessions."

"Don't laugh! I'm under a lot of stress right now!"

"Right, right."

Alfred let his shoulders slump. "I love you," he whispered, pressing his forehead against Arthur's, nose touching in a gentle gesture that he hoped communicated all the things he was too embarrassed to say. "Please don't suffer alone anymore."

"I won't," Arthur sighed. Why did he sound so tired? "I'll be suffering with millions of other people. Suffering, just like them."

That was not the answer Alfred wanted to hear. He wanted to hear him say something like 'there won't be a revolt' or 'there won't be a war' but this was probably the best that he was going to get. At least Arthur had acknowledged that, like it or not, he was tied to his people.

"Arthur...so it's true what they say after all. A mother's love is peace," he chuckled.

Arthur's fist lightly hit the side of Alfred's head. "Don't call me a mother."

Alfred laughed at the almost-pout on Arthur's face. How odd it was to laugh, he thought. Really, he could not tell is he was extremely happy or completely miserable. So he laughed. He laughed so hard that he cried.

XX

There was nothing anyone could do to stop the war now. It had escalated too far and was only gaining momentum as the weeks passed. There was nothing anyone could do to fully stop the pain but at least they could help abate it just a little. It was strange how even those small words could lift Alfred's heart.

Yao offered to make something to numb the pain and send Arthur to sleep for about three years or so. The first few years of civil war were always the most painful. Alfred wished that it would not take so long before the country settled down but he had been cautioned not to let his hopes rise too high in that area.

Currently, Alfred remained alone with Arthur in his room, tying Arthur's wrists to the headboard so that he could not hurt himself when the symptoms started. Kiku promised to stay and nurse Arthur with him but the rest would withdraw and try to encourage their bosses to help the situation simmer down as soon as possible.

Alfred took his new task of binding Arthur hand and foot to the bed with increasing seriousness. He stared at the thick rope and tried not to think about anything else. It only pained him to think about the future and the past was a place he did not want to go to at the moment either. He only had the present now, and the rope in his hand that mercilessly bit into Arthur's skin.

"When this is over, I might be someone completely different," Arthur said placidly, letting himself be tied to the bed as if this were custom. He had taken Yao's medicine earlier and was now only waiting for it to take effect.

"Arthur is always Arthur," Alfred said with conviction. He finished checking that the knots were tight and turned to him, cupping the side of his face with his hand. "I know you. You won't change at all."

"Alfred," Arthur looked as though he was about to say something more but bit his lip to stop up the words.

Alfred did not mind it. He only wanted this war to pass as quickly as possible with as little pain to Arthur. "You'll always be the same to me," he murmured and ruffled his hair.

Arthur frowned at him and tried to fix the mess but found that it was impossible with his wrists bound above his head. "Alfred," his reproving tone melted away into something softer, "until I fall asleep..."

"Yeah, I promise. I'll stay with you until then," he smiled, lying down alongside Arthur with his head buried in the crook of his neck. He felt Arthur sigh and his breath touch the side of his ear.

"Do you think they'll be happy this way?"

"Maybe," he replied, though he would rather that Arthur did not think about them right now, not when his awesome self was currently keeping him company. He chuckled and lifted himself closer to Arthur's body, leaning over him so that his shadow completely masked him.

"Don't worry about it too much. You always worry about stupid stuff. That's why you're starting to get wrinkles right here," he playfully poked the point between Arthur's eyes that wrinkled the most when he furrowed his eyebrows.

Arthur's eyes fluttered shut then opened again to look at him. He repeated this gesture several times, keeping his eyes closed longer after each passing moment, feeling the medicine finally weighing down his eyes.

"Alfred, you know I never...never answered...you...before..." he began to slur, trying to keep his vision focused on Alfred's smiling face for as long as possible. "But I...I also...also love - "

Before he could finish his sentence, Arthur's eyes closed for the final time, his head tilted to one side and his body relaxed as he was sent into a drug-induced sleep.

Alfred remained watching over him for a while. Only when Arthur's eyes were fully shut did he allow his smile to become a frown, brushing his thumb gently over Arthur's closed eyelids.

He waited a while, watching Arthur carefully before he finally decided to rise. The fluttering curtains caused specks of light to play across Arthur's face. Alfred drew them close so that only faint beams peeked through the bottom.

This was a war no one needed. Personally, Alfred did not care if the government or the monarchy won if it meant that the whole stupid revolt would die down quickly. Although knowing his boss would definitely oppose the idea of a ruling monarchy, Alfred was also inclined to take the side of the government after how Arthur had been treated by the queen. However, either way, he knew that though it may be a civil war, it was not something he could stand by and quietly watch from the sidelines.

Sparing one last look at Arthur's sleeping face he left the quiet room with grim determination, making his way downstairs. Throwing open the front door, he stepped outside to greet the tumultuous din of the London riots.

"Sweet dreams," he whispered, even though he knew the dream to follow would be anything but sweet.

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Next part will be the last part - the epilogue


	8. Chapter 8

Last part! Thank you everyone. I know it goes kinda fast but...

* * *

**If you find me**

**Epilogue**

XX

Alfred knew that going through civil war hurt. He could not quite remember his own civil wars; his memories in that department were cloudy at best and he had probably been delirious and half-crazed throughout it, but he knew that it was a painful time.

At first when Alfred watched him it only seemed as if Arthur were experiencing a bad dream; a very bad, horrific dream. However, when Yao's medicine wore off and Arthur awoke, though not fully conscious, Alfred could fully appreciate the horrors of civil war.

He was glad that they had tied him down. Arthur could struggle as much as he like, the skin breaking and bleeding against the rope, he could curse Alfred and swear and spout as much angry babble as he wanted but he could never get his hands on anything dangerous.

Feeding Arthur in that deranged, paranoid state had been a frightening experience. Sometimes he was fierce and would not let anyone touch him, sometimes he was silent but paranoid, and sometimes he would be seductive, licking his lips, displaying his sweat-stained body, offering a fuck in return for freedom.

'Hey,' Arthur would whisper. 'You've got me tied up here. Why don't you take me? I wouldn't be able to stop you. Come on, take me, you fucking Royalist; show your love for the country.'

At times Alfred wanted to punch every person he saw; Royalist or Civil. He wanted to yell, 'Stop it! Stop it, can't you see that it's hurting him?' There were even times when he wished everyone would just disappear in a mushroom cloud but he was not enough of a hypocrite to become the very thing he had tried to save Arthur from becoming.

He begged Yao to give Arthur another dose, would have gotten on his hands and knees even, but Yao insisted that another dose so soon would be harmful.

'Wait three or four years aru, and if he doesn't calm down by then I'll give him another dose. I promise, aru,' he had said.

The war raged on for another two years. Alfred was sure that, if it did not kill Arthur, it would surely kill him to watch its effects on Arthur's mind.

However, just when they were ready to give Arthur another dose, the unthinkable occurred. The queen was assassinated by her own son.

After the initial surge of violence this brought about, things quickly calmed down. The government regained control and ruled that the Prince would not be tried for treason but would ascend the throne as King though with limited powers.

Unrest and bitter feelings continued to bubble – who would serve a king usurped the throne? It would be better to completely scrap the monarchy so this could never happen again – yet those feelings simmered down when it became apparent that repairing the damage both sides had done was a priority. They had made too many holes in this ship and would both sink together unless something was done.

The feeling waned into something that could tentatively be called peace.

XX

Arthur was only partially aware of what he had done during the war. He had been awake and yet delirious, thinking back on it was like looking at shadow puppets on the wall; watching and yet strangely apart from everything that was happening.

He had vague notions of what he had done but it all seemed as if it were just a bad nightmare. The things he said, the things he did or tried to do were too horrible for him to think otherwise.

Light fell on his face when Arthur sluggishly opened his eyes. It felt like the first light he had seen in centuries. His first thought was; warm, until he was finally able to perform more complex thought.

It was peaceful. The room smelt of spring; cut grass and flowers and sunlight. Was light usually this bright? The sun felt so good against his skin that he did not want to move but, shifting his head slightly, he looked down and realised that he had been untied; there were bandages around his wrist and ankles but the rope was gone.

"A – Alfred?" he tested his voice. It came out smooth.

Two warm hands clasped his own. Through his swimming vision, he managed to make out Alfred's face leaning over him. He blinked several times to clear his vision, focusing on Alfred's smile.

"Arthur? Are you okay? How are you feeling? Do you know who I am?" he asked, his voice was edged with slight panic despite his calm outward appearance.

Arthur groaned and managed to pull himself up into a sitting position. It was easier to look at Alfred this way. "Of course I know who you are," he muttered. "Get me something to drink."

Alfred laughed, relaxing. The sound was oddly solid; the only first real sound that did not feel like an illusion. "Only just awake and ordering me about already? You're definitely Arthur!"

"Git," he muttered. That word sounded so strange to him. When was the last time he had used it? It could have been centuries ago.

Alfred only smiled and looked at him with an expression he could not quite place. The force of that gaze however tender it was only made Arthur squirm.

"W – What?"

"Nothing," Alfred said and his smile widened.

"Idiot," Arthur frowned at him, except that his frown was the wrong way around.

XX

"She didn't deserve a royal funeral. She doesn't even deserve those flowers!" Alfred glared at the gravestone overshadowed by weeping willows. The stone statue of an angel above the polished slab seemed in bad taste to him.

Arthur gave him an understanding look as he knelt down to place lilies on the grave. When he rose again the sun flashed across his eyes, blinding him for just a second. It was too bright and warm of a day to be spending with the dead.

"It feels like a dream," Arthur murmured.

The wind carried the scent of yesterday on it, brushing past them as if to beckon them towards the future. Such a nostalgic smell made his head swim, the patterns of sunlight through the weeping willows were like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle scattered over the field; a kaleidoscope of light.

"It's not a dream, Arthur!" Alfred perked up. Rushing out of the shade of the willows he spread his arms wide like a child, as if he could embrace both the sun and sky. "Smell that fresh air! It's the start of great new things!"

Arthur frowned at him but followed him. "You're so optimistic. My economy is shot," he muttered.

"Don't worry, I'll help you out!" Alfred thumped his chest. "Besides, sometimes stuff like this has to happen so that new things can grow."

"I don't trust your loans anymore," Arthur shook his head, only half joking.

"How mean! I won't suddenly ask for a total repayment, I promise!"

"Who can believe the things that you say?" he retorted.

Without warning, Alfred flung himself on top of Arthur, almost toppling them both. "You're so cruel, Arthur! And I nursed you so lovingly these six years! Six years whilst you were bat-shit crazy!" he cried, trying to hide the fact that even mentioning it brought back unwelcome memories.

"...I know," Arthur shoved him off, growing pensive as he thought about the time that he had passed in a half-conscious state of insanity.

Even though it seemed a dream, he distinctly remembered the touch of a cool hand against his head and the presence of someone sitting by his side, always there to keep him company no matter how badly he cursed and screamed.

Arthur turned his back to Alfred so that he would not see the faint blush warming his cheeks as he muttered something under his breath.

"What was that?" Alfred stepped closer.

"I know," Arthur said. "Even though I can't really remember it very well, I remember feeling as though I was lost somewhere in a deep, dark place. I couldn't find the way out no matter how hard I tried but then...well, you found me and lead me out of that place so...so...thank you...I guess."

"You guess?"

Annoyed that Alfred was making him say it out loud, he took a deep breath and stiffly bellowed; "Thank - "

"Arthur," Alfred suddenly cut him off as he collided into his back, arresting his arms by wrapping himself around him.

"W – What?" Arthur tried to catch a glimpse of his face.

Alfred's breath tickled the back of his neck. He hugged him tighter, pressing his chest against Arthur's back.

"Welcome back."

For a moment Arthur was at loss for words. Then, slowly, he managed to worm himself around to look Alfred, nestling against his warm chest. Arthur closed eyes with what felt like contentment.

"...I'm back."

* * *

Thanks for reading. I was wondering whether to post these extra or not. It seems a waste to give them a chapter all on their own but also a waste to exclude them so...here they are.

**Omake 1**

Matthew stood outside Alfred's manor house. He was sure that this was the place Alfred had mentioned when he had called him but...he had been ringing the bell for three hours and no one had opened the door for him.

Had they all gone out? Were they asleep? Were they too busy looking after Arthur, who he had heard was in a bad shape, that they had failed to hear him ring?

He should go. If they were not going to open up then there was no point of being there. He was worried about Arthur but there was nothing he could do if no one was answering; he should just go back to Canada.

Heaving a sigh, Matthew rang the bell again.

"Alfred."

"Yes, Arthur?"

"What the bloody hell did you do to my house?"

"...Ah."

XX

You didn't think I forgot about him, did you? Poor Matthew, someone forgot to tell him that they were moving to London.


End file.
